


Throw Me Down

by beestung2025



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 21:12:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15421686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beestung2025/pseuds/beestung2025
Summary: Hermione has a good stress reliever.





	Throw Me Down

 

‘That bitch,’ Tom Riddle seethed, seated at his desk in the private Slytherin Head Boy dormitory. And to his misfortune, as the Head Girl wasn’t Slytherin, the newest ‘guest’ of Slytherin House was put in the private room that should have been empty. He was supposed to have the entire dorm floor to himself.

 

But no, the frizzy haired know-it-all refugee from the continent made the pampered pureblood princesses feel unsafe after her first night waking up screaming from nightmares, wand drawn to fight some imagined adversary. Tom knew was shell shock was, and that the girl was clearly suffering from some form of it. Several of the smaller children at Wool’s Orphanage, where he had lived since infancy, developed it after the firebombing in London. That was another sore spot for Tom, the lack of help and assistance from anyone in the Wizarding World when London nearly fell to the Krauts, and the city mostly destroyed by bombing. No, Tom couldn’t possibly be allowed to stay safe in the Highlands of Scotland, supplied with nutritious foods that simply weren’t available on the muggle rations. Albus fucking Dumbledore ensured Tom Marvolo Riddle would rot at that damn orphanage.

 

Tom continued playing with his quill, the leather bound journal that his Grandmother Riddle had gave him when he was accepted to Hogwarts open on his desk. Not that anyone knew of the arrangement his paternal grandmother had with Wool’s Orphanage. Mary Riddle had found Tom’s mother Merope purely by chance while volunteering with one of the London Hospitals, and when Merope died from internal hemorrhaging, Mary arranged for Tom to be sent to Wool’s Orphanage. Despite her pleas, her husband and son refused to even see the abomination, as they called the infant Tom and his mother. After that point, Mary Riddle concealed from the her family what she did in London. They thought her to still be volunteering at the hospital, when in reality she spent her two days a week, Wednesdays and Sundays caring for Tom as a baby, tutoring the boy as he grew up, and taking him to church every Sunday. She wasn’t a particularly warm woman, Mary Riddle, but she had a sense of duty and liked her strange and quiet grandson that looked just like his father, despite the air of strangeness that obviously came from Merope’s family. When young Tom informed her of his acceptance to Hogwarts, Mary returned the next visit with the leather bound journal stamped with his name in gold leaf. It was one of the few times she showed true tenderness with him, finally understanding why he had been such a strange child with disturbing reports from the matron of the orphanage. Mary Riddle had tucked some money into the journal, an agreement between her and her husband. She could no longer see the child, but she could give him money for his education. It was the last time Tom has seen his grandmother until he killed the Riddles the previous summer.

 

Tom leaned back in his chair, hand ruffling his perfectly coiffed hair. The hum of the journal below and the ring on his finger calmed him, being together with the blackest magic he used to fly from death, his horcruxes. He had the idea of Vol-de-mort during the London Blitz, imagining that if he could only find the right magic, he could just fly from the death that rained from the skies the entire winter holiday he was forced to be away from Hogwarts and in the heart of the firebombing while they reinforced the warding of the school. He turned 14 that winter, and in less than 2 years, he’d found the magic he needed to protect himself from the senseless, gory, and violent deaths the muggles were so fond of inflicting on each other. Magic was much more elegant as a solution. He slightly conflicted about having killed his Grandmother Riddle, when his stupid muggle father bragged how she’d been the one to ensure he had any money at all as if it were up to him, Tom Riddle Sr, he would have ignored the abomination. However, Tom had no idea how to perform necromancy and couldn’t raise her. He was displeased she felt that money was more important than having family, or what it would be like for him when she simply stopped coming, and how the other orphans bullied him for it. Tom continued on with his mission, using the ring he’d stolen from his insane maternal uncle to create his second horcrux from the murder of his father and using his cooling corpse for the ritual.

 

But that girl! Tom pulled at his hair before growling in frustration. He had no idea why she enjoyed having odd philosophical conversations that inevitably would leave him lingering over the old, scarred memories of his past. It’s like the bitch was a Legilimens, prying his secrets out of his head-- except Tom knew that his occlumency walls protecting his mind had not been breached. Strange, strange bitch. He wanted her gone, back to whatever European pissant country she crawled out of with her near perfect OWL scores and getting Slughorn to agree to sponsor her refugee status! Everywhere he turned, she was there. With her nervous brown eyes that seems to move too quickly and never retain eye contact, she was constantly taking the opposite stance of whatever he said, be it in class or in the Slytherin Common room. Their own little sitting area at the landing where the doors to their private dormitories was the only place she even gave the hint of being vulnerable, as they both knew she was at night. Hermione Granger had woken up the whole of Slytherin House her first night and cursed two of her dormmates that tried to wake her. 

 

So now the bitch was encroaching on his hard earned solitude. He did have the private Head Boy suite, for which he was grateful. He hated sharing, especially with the cruel boys at the orphanage that never let go of the fact he had a family that didn’t want him. The bigoted pureblood boys at Hogwarts were so easy to bend to his will with magic, but he still had to share until this year. Well, until this bint came along. At least he set one thing straight when he had been forced to escort her and her things to the empty Head Girl Suite, next to his own: Silencing charms were to be used at all times.

 

_ “It will be safer for everyone” Slughorn told him greasily, trying to explain to Tom the necessity. “You can stop her from accidentally hurting someone-- you understand what this … uh.. Condition… is that she has” _

 

_ “You mean shell shock, Professor? It is well documented in the muggle world. I’m surprised wizards haven’t caught on to the effects of trauma on the brain, be it magical or muggle.” Tom sniffed, trying not to sneer at the stupidity. Of course it was bloody shell shock; she claimed her family was killed and she had been fleeing the fighting for months. Given the state she was in, it was clear she suffered from battle trauma and had been malnourished for months. Granted a few potions from the matron in the hospital wing and the girl was back to whatever was her normal health.  _

 

Hermione Granger was skinny, but had a decent shape when she ditched the black school robes over the rest of her uniform. Smallish breasts, wide hips… Tom rather liked her hips, but it was her ass that was divine. She either had no propriety or was very loose with how often she simply bent over, displaying that divine ass, to the entirety of the male population. There were already several betting pools as to her sexual experience, and when/who will get the chance to fool around with her first. Tom had observed this again during their last heated exchange in front of their suites. Hermione fucking Granger was doggedly prattling on about creature rights and witches’ rights and well, to be honest Tom stopped listening, enjoying the rosy color on her cheeks from her passionate discourse, and the magic that gathered and sparked in her unmanageable hair. Even her golden skin seem to glow with her angered magic as she realized Tom wasn’t listening.

 

_ “You bloody prat! You just don’t care about other living souls do you? How much of a soul do you even have?” Hermione hissed angrily, wrenching open her door and slamming it shut behind her. It seemed that simply letting her go on with her chatter tuning her out and evaluating her body was the way to irritate her the quickest. He’d never met a girl who was so uncomfortable with flirting or her own prowess. She was a very powerful witch, he could feel it when they spared in Defense Against the Dark Arts (again, because it was ‘safest’ as he was the top of the year and in all the classes. No longer did he get to duel the teacher, now he dueled the refugee to supposedly keep her in check, but the witch had more control than anyone gave her credit for and actively held back on her spells. It was frustrating because he couldn’t understand why or why he even cared.) _

 

That comment about souls though… that is what sent him into his room for the peace and solitude with his horcruxes. No one knows about them. How could they? The only witnesses are dead. 

 

Tom’s head snapped up-- was that a noise? That frustrating bint better not have forgotten the silencing spells he demanded she use every night. He felt it was silly for refusing Dreamless Sleep due to the addictiveness, but forgetting the silencing spells after refusing Dreamless Sleep was against his rules. Nobody was ever quite the same after crossing him, Tom smirked.

 

There it was again, the noise. But it was still quiet-- not in the way that it sounds when silencing spells start to fail however. It wasn’t muffled screaming..

 

‘Was that a moan?’ Tom thought wildly, smirking to himself. He was quite familiar with those types of sighs and moans, though the girls he used never remembered it afterwards. Tom got up from his desk, moving to the otherside that was flush with the wall, pressing his ear to the wall, wondering who would be winning the betting pools. He ran the pools with a Hufflepuff as a catspaw, so he’d be getting galleons no matter who won. Tom did find it amusing that he himself had the best odds by a long shot for getting into her knickers. A breathy moan caught his attention again and he focused on trying to figure out who was in there and how the hell she could have gotten someone in past him. Her quick, rapid breaths sounded so close; Tom had to wonder where the Head Girl’s suite might share a wall with his own.

 

“Ohhhh… gods…” Hermione’s voice groaned before letting out a high pitched whine, punctuated with her breaths. Tom couldn’t help it, feeling himself getting hard with her performance and imagining her ass in front of him. He adjusted his trousers and pressed closer to the wall.

“Oh oh please.. oh pleasee” She repeated her mantra like her life depended on it, the begging turning Tom on further. He always felt magnificent when someone begged him, but he never considered having a girl beg him in bed. Normally Tom just hit them with a _silencio_ and got to his business. He didn’t want to deal with the clinging and petting he saw other students getting up to; like he’d let anyone touch his body as if they owned it. He could see in the minds of the pathetic girls how much they wanted him, to show him off like a status symbol to their friends, to have Head Boy Tom Riddle, Brightest Wizard of the Century, in their bed, regardless of boyfriends or betrothals. It disgusted him.

“Fuck… I… fuck!” Hermione’s voice screamed, surprising Tom out of his reverie. Like the flip of a switch, he was annoyed. The bint never put up silencing charms and was clearly a hussy who couldn’t keep her legs closed. The second thought annoying Tom for how much it irritated him. He shoved off from the wall and angrily stalked out of his suite and slammed his fist on the door, announcing “Head Boy” before using the spell he was given in case Hermione was having an episode and Tom needed to get into her suite. There were panicked rummaging sounds from the bedroom that Tom strode towards, an ugly sneer maring his beautiful face. He wrenched the door open, to find a very naked Hermione struggling to put on a robe she’d gotten tangled in her hurry.

 

“RIDDLE!” Hermione shrieked, attempting to cover herself and turning around not realizing it was her bare ass that now screamed for his attention. Apparently she’d been pleasuring herself, a thought which fuzzily beat itself around his head as he stared at her ass, struggling to refocus and marshal himself.

“WOULD YOU STOP LOOKING YOU CREEP!” Hermione screamed at him, finally getting the robe untangled and covering herself. Tom merely smirked and leaned against the door frame, as if he simply belonged there in her room.

“What are you even doing in here, how did you even get it? You didn’t even give me the chance to properly get the door!” Hermione glared at him, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at him. Tom remained smirking, enjoying the irritation that made her flushed, post orgasmic skin glow the brighter.

“Well? Are you going to answer me you pervert?” Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise when Tom moved quicker than she thought possible, grabbing her hair and exposing her throat, his wand digging into her neck.

“Wh-wh-what are you doing, Riddle?” She asked fearfully, her anger slipping away as terror filled her. She stupidly assumed she’d be safe at Hogwarts until she could support herself and disappear into the past. She just needed her NEWTs and the Ministry insisted she take the 7th year at Hogwarts when she came claiming refugee status from Italy. In reality, she’d performed a highly illegal ritual with the sand from a time turner, unable to live in a world in which both sides lost and leaving her utterly alone. Some forged paperwork, and there she was, ward of Professor Slughorn and sorted into Slytherin. Somehow, for some reason she wasn’t quite sure of, Tom Riddle aka Voldemort was threatening her while she was unarmed and practically naked. Yet as she stared up into his fathomless dark eyes, her pulse quickened and she could feel the tell tale ache within her that something about this turned her on. The most surprising part was she wasn’t alone, somehow incredibly he was  _ aroused. How the hell?  _ Hermione knew she was nothing much to look at; she’d heard all of her life how undesirable she was. Her terror became tinged with lust, a heady combination the Head Boy induced in her. Then as suddenly as he’d caught her to threaten her, his fist tightened as he smirked. Tom stowed his want in his pocket, never letting go of her hair in his other hand, gently tracing the lines of her neck.

 

“Miss Granger, what a slut you are.” Tom answered her smoothly, bending his head down to breathe in the scent of her hair. Hermione jerked but couldn’t free herself.

“I am  _ no such thing _ . This is  _ my  _ room. Get out.” Hermione tried to respond coldly, but Riddle was distracting her with his overwhelming presence and hands on her and how much her old friends would hate her for her weakness. Her weakness in which she had to relieve some of the stress and she couldn’t help it when her thoughts turned to him as she came. She felt like a filthy traitor to them, but  _ he  _ didn’t need to know that.

“You forgot your silencing charms, Miss Granger. It is my duty to ensure no harm comes to you. You know Slughorn asked me to, it was when we first met.” Tom looked at her, taking in the heat that was creeping into her eyes, mixing delightfully with the terror he induced.  _ Was she… did she like this? Did girls enjoy this? _

Hermione gulped audibly, knowing what a fuss he’d made about her using silencing charms if she wouldn’t take the Dreamless Sleep potion. Tom traced the movement on her throat.

“Tell me, Hermione… does this excite you?” Tom purred in her ear, enjoying the electric feeling of her emotional magic escaping through her hair against his cheek.

“This is just entirely inappropriate Riddle. You need to leave. I am sorry about forgetting my charms. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Hermione closed her eyes and wished she felt anything but the odd sensation of lust and fear and excitement.

“I don’t think I will.” Tom smirked, flicking up a silencing charm before stowing his wand again and resuming his tracing of her neck and beautiful clavicle. _ What lovely bones she has _ .

“This is wrong, Riddle. You don’t even like me.” Hermione tried stepping away only to find her hair yanking her back to where she was, forcing her neck back even further. Tears stung her eyes.

“S-stop, Riddle. You’re hurting me.” Hermione whispered, defeated.

“I could stop. And I could leave. But I don’t think I will, because you like this Miss Granger. I can feel your pulse quicken. Your breath hitches every time I do this,” Tom deftly slid his hand over her throat and her breath did indeed catch. “I can see the lust in your eyes, and the begging-- Tell me, Miss Granger, do you like to beg?”

“No! I don’t! And you need to leave!” Hermione’s voice quavered.

“I heard you begging before. Who were you begging?” Tom’s normal tenor took on a darker, deeper pitch as he pressed himself into the soft witch, chuckling at her jump of surprise as his now terribly hard cock was jutting into her hip.  _ Oh those lovely hips. _

“N-no one. There was no one.” Hermione admitted in a small voice, in utter shock at Tom’s behavior. The school was rife with rumors and all of them eventually ended with Tom preferred to focus on his studies to provide for his future wife, as the girls told it at least. Sweet Orphan Tom Riddle wanted to do his best so he could have his own family some day. Hermione nearly gagged when she was told, knowing what the Dark Lord he would turn into. How could she have been so blind? Teenage Tom Riddle was like any boy with hormones. It just wasn’t fair with how tall and handsome he was, the way he instinctively knew how to turn her on in ways she didn’t even know yet.

“Pleasuring yourself then? How wanton, little slut. I do say I prefer it over… other options.” Tom continued what had to have been the most surreal conversation of her life. Her naked body was only separated from Tom Riddle by her thin robe, with his hand gripping her hair, her head bent back to an almost painful position, and his body pressed into her while he gently touched her with those elegant long fingers of his. Her core clenched when she thought of what else he could do to her with those fingers. Tom didn’t miss the flash of her eyes though.

“Yes, I would say you prefer it as well. But why beg when there’s no one listening? Did you forget your silencing spell on purpose? Beg me to help you?” Tom grinned to himself as he finally let his hand slide lower, tracing her lovely defined collar bone to the edge of her robe, where he played dipping one long finger under the collar.

“No! I would never! I didn’t mean to forget!” Hermione struggled again, succeeding in grinding Tom’s erection into her hip and Tom’s hand gripping her robe before slipping inside and around her back pulling her closer to him. His bare hand was on her and she felt like she was on fire; she couldn’t help but squirming. She stopped suddenly when Tom groaned into her hair, his dick seemed impossibly harder and bigger and he’s grabbed her hip with a bruising force.

 

“Who were you begging, Hermione? I won’t ask again.” Tom growled, his voice gravely with his own arousal.

“It wasn’t supposed to be you.” Hermione answered timidly, closing her eyes and feeling the rush of a hot blush flow through her.

“Not supposed to be me?” Tom asked, amused and enjoying the extensiveness of her blush. He needed to get the robe off of her. He wanted all of her right now.

“I just… it’s what I do to calm down. The PTSD--” Hermione stopped, embarrassed.

“PTSD?” Tom asked, prodding her story along.

“I mean shell shock. Everything’s so stressful. I just wanted to not be stressed for a moment.” Hermione admitted, thoroughly embarrassed.

“I understand some of the ramifications of shell shock, Hermione.” Tom eased his grip on her hip and began rubbing small circles with his thumb. “Other children at the Orphanage have it, from the Blitz. I am very aware of how it can manifest differently.”

“I-- I had no idea you were still there during the bombing, didn’t they evacuate?” Hermione’s gaze met Tom’s, her natural state of logic and how the world should work coloring her words, her embarrassment at her current predicament melting away for a short moment.  _ ‘She should have been a Gryffindor,’ _ Tom thought.

“No. They did not evacuate. If you need assistance, Hermione…” Tom used his Head Boy voice, the warmth of which was at complete odds with his tight grip in her hair and possessive arm threaded through her robe onto her bare skin that was flushed and inviting under his touch.

“I--No! This is wrong.” Hermione maintained, being still and slamming her eyes shut as she couldn’t turn away. She couldn’t bear to look at his playful smirk or think about how very long it had been since she last enjoyed the pleasures of someone else in her bed.

“Is it? You do know, Hermione, that I know you hold back when casting. You could have easily changed this to a duel. Instead you play the frightened rabbit for me. More’s the pity, I like your fire, witch.” Tom let go of Hermione abruptly, making her stagger a bit.

“Frightened rabbit, Riddle? I don’t even have my wand on me and you know it.” Hermione’s shock turned quickly into righteous anger. She held out a hand to summon it, but Tom beat her to it and accio’d it right off of her nightstand.

“Little rabbit, you don’t need your wand. You should be more careful of who observes you when you think you’re alone” Tom smirked, twirling her wand in his fingers before pocketing it with his own wand. Hermione fumed and her entire person seemed to vibrate with unspent magic.

“Would you like me to help you calm you down now? I can think of a few ways…” Tom grinned before ducking as Hermione sent a knock-back jinx at him.

“So she finally uses her fangs. Good, you’re not entirely useless.” Tom rolled his eyes and stepped towards her again.

“Why, you--” Hermione shrieked before unleashing a torrent of jinxes and curses, some light, some grey and a few that surprised Tom with how dark they were. Clearly her anger was fueling her magic allowing it to flow as easily as if she had her wand. Tom nearly groaned at his mistake. Now he actually had to calm her down before she went on some rampage through the Slytherin dungeons.

“Miss Granger--” Tom began as he drew his wand to defend himself.

“Evil, Stupid, Misogynistic BASTARD!” Hermione yelled as she conjured her signature canaries before having them attack. Tom slashed his wand in the air casting a Finite.

“HERMIONE.” Tom thundered, a black expression coming over his face and terror rooting Hermione in her spot, the power and dominance he was displaying most inconveniently making him look even more handsome with the angelic face, like perhaps Zeus would have looked like in human form. No wonder how he tricked all those maidens.

“I appreciate that you know how to fight back. That was the intent of my comment. You are not useless and you know it, or I wouldn’t be monitoring your shell shock for Slughorn.” Tom ran a hand through his hair, the neat curls in disarray from their duel. Hermione merely narrowed her eyes and pulled her robe closer around her. What was she to say? She had nothing, so she just turned her back to him wishing he would leave. She just couldn’t bear to fight any longer. She’d lost everything, she just wanted a shred of normalcy for a change. But why was she fighting a fight that hadn’t started and she wasn’t going to be a part of again. She wasn’t going to lose everyone again, to Dumbledore or to Voldemort. But this boy? He was just Tom Riddle, she realized.

 

“I’m sorry for my behavior earlier; I was clearly mistaken.” Tom said, slightly unsure what to do with a silent witch that wasn’t under a spell. Crying he could deal with, but he was rather unnerved by her silence. Hermione cleared her throat and turned back around, robe wide open. Tom’s jaw dropped.

“You were, but I think I’ll take you up on your offer. To calm me down.” Hermione smirked as she put her hands on her hips. Future Dark Lord or not, he was still a teenage boy with hormones. She could have this. She could give herself this. Hermione nearly laughed at how much she’d throw him off, as he gulped audibly.

“Miss Granger, you really should rest. Don’t want to do anything you might regret in the morning.” Tom nodded to her and turned for the door when a light stinging hex caught his shoulder and he growled, rounding on Hermione.

“What was that for?” He ground out, trying to resist the urge to shake the insane witch.

“Oh that was for rescinding your offer. I didn’t appreciate it.” Hermione sniffed dramatically, folding her arms across her still open robe, drawing Tom’s eye no matter how much he was trying not to stare openly at her. Unlike any girl or woman he’d had thus far, Hermione  _ shaved _ . And it was clear she was turned on by their little interaction. Tom needed a moment to process the information he was trying to absorb but Hermione closed the distance between them. She walked up to him and took him by his green and silver tie, tugging on it gently, and leading him towards her bed.

“I know about the betting pool, you know. I actually influenced some of the odds.” Hermione said conversationally while she undid Tom’s tie as he stared rather bewildered at her and unsure if he took advantage of the situation, it would ruin his relationship with Slughorn-- whom he needed for his connections.

“Did you?” Tom asked meekly, still evaluating the situation.

“Oh yes, I don’t just take anyone to bed.” Hermione smirked as she tugged his tie off and started on his shirt, little silver snake cufflinks holding the french cuffs together.

“So you’re saying I’m special then?” Tom smirked and felt more in his element, repeating a line he gave out when he was looking for an attractive body to settle his needs. He brought his hands to her shoulders, rubbing circles on her collarbone with his thumbs, easing the rest of his hands under her robe.

“Special enough. We haven’t gotten to the main event-- then you’ll need to impress me.” Hermione winked as she placed the cufflinks on her side table and worked on his front placket.

“Are you challenging me, Granger?”

“Absolutely Tom. Though you won’t earn any points calling me ‘Granger’ during sex.” Hermione laughed, and he couldn’t help himself and chuckled as well.

“I see your point, Hermione.” Tom smiled one of his signature flirting smiles that never failed to bring a girl to her knees… except this one.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Riddle.” Hermione glared, in mock anger.

“Oh? But I thought you wanted this?” Tom withdrew his hands to Hermione’s protests. There was a bit of a knot in her shoulder and he had been doing a great job easing it out. Hermione, hands still on his shirt ripped as hard as she could and with a nonverbal ‘Diffindo’ for good luck, she tore his shirt open, buttons flying.

“Don’t underestimate me Tom.” Hermione said, eyes narrowed.

“Never said I was.” Tom returned, eyebrow raised.

“Good. Now throw me down and fuck me like you mean it.”


End file.
